


Banquet

by tifaching



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark, Disturbing Themes, Gen, Hell, Hurt Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tifaching/pseuds/tifaching
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alastair's throwing a dinner party and Dean's on the menu.  Actually, Dean <i>is</i> the menu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banquet

Demons are insatiable, their hunger never satisfied, but Alastair doesn’t consider this to be a problem. In Hell there’s always more than enough to go around.

It’s the tenth anniversary of Dean’s arrival in the pit and Alastair has arranged a feast to mark the occasion. The chairs lining the tables in the Great Hall are filled with members of Hell’s upper echelon, hundreds of minions crouching at their feet. Each place is set with a goblet fashioned from Dean’s skull; all the utensils have been carved from his bones. Vats of Dean’s bodily fluids have been fermenting for weeks to produce the pit’s favorite libation- Essence of the Righteous Man.

Alastair’s got a place at the head table, but he’s spending most of his time in the kitchen, supervising the preparation of the meal. A lot has had to be done in advance; he couldn’t have assembled the massive amounts of ingredients necessary for most of the dishes in just one day. It’s taken months to fill the appetizer platters with Dean’s eyeballs, tongue and testicles. To gouge and chop and bite the pieces off then to make Dean whole so he could be harvested again.

Dozens of cauldrons bubble over blazing flames in vast fireplaces. They contain the soup portion of tonight’s meal and Dean’s been boiled alive in each of them. Alastair grabs a ladle and stirs the nearest pot, scooping up the thick, flesh filled liquid for a taste. Agony and terror burst onto his palate along with the delicious taste of human flesh and the demon smacks his lips.

Rows of sausages roast on hooks above the cauldrons and Alastair closes his eyes; remembers pulling Dean’s intestines out over and over, then grinding his flesh to make the filling. Covered pans nestle among the coals and Alastair peeks into one. A clawed finger reaches out and peels off a bit of kidney, carrying it to the demon’s mouth. He repeats this with pans of livers, brains, hearts and the slabs of flesh that have been sliced from the main courses that are already done. All are perfect and he salivates as he opens the oven to pull out the last piece of the meal that needs to be prepared.

He lets out a low moan at the sight of Dean. He’s had to slow roast him dozens of times to get enough meat for the feast, but he never tires of the sight of his boy’s body fresh from the oven. Dean’s eyes are gone, ready to be served, but he knows Alastair’s stropping the carving knife and the demon can hear the silent scream.

Dozens of claws hook into Dean and transport him to the cutting board. The demons settle him on it carefully, then ravenously lick his juices from their hands. Alastair finishes sharpening his blade and moves to Dean’s side.

“Now, don’t you just look good enough to eat,” he murmurs. He carves chunks of flesh from Dean’s thighs and buttocks, popping stray bits of meat into his mouth. Dean’s cock is next, sliced into wafer thin pieces all the way up to his empty scrotum. Alastair arranges the slices on an overflowing tray to be served with the appetizers, then moves on to Dean’s abdomen, depositing his internal organs in their various pans.

When nothing’s left but bone, Alastair lays a hand on Dean’s skull and makes him whole again. There’s a place for Dean at the banquet too. He’ll be hanging from the wall behind the head table, writhing in pain every time teeth tear into a bit of his flesh. Alastair’s not going to have it said that he didn’t provide entertainment at his dinner party.

Alastair smiles as he watches his guests; the hunger in their eyes not diminishing at all as they eat their fill. So far he’s been the only one to enjoy Dean’s favors, but he’d be a poor host not to share all of his boy.

When the dinner’s over and every bit of Dean has been consumed, the room will be cleared and outfitted for a different type of entertainment. After all, that delectable body’s got to provide dessert too.


End file.
